


Make Me Make You

by ahurston



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Banter, Biting, Enthusiastic Consent, Jam Basket Exhange, Kneeling, Light Dom/sub, Like seriously only switching, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Spanking, Super casual d/s, Switching, set mid-season 5, switching galore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-22 15:48:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22151824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahurston/pseuds/ahurston
Summary: Patrick is tense. David has some ideas for how to relax.A jam basket gift for the eternally lovelyNervousCupcake!
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 27
Kudos: 259





	Make Me Make You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nervouscupcakeinspace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nervouscupcakeinspace/gifts).



> This porn made possible by your local neighborhood beta hero, [this_is_not_nothing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/this_is_not_nothing/pseuds/this_is_not_nothing). ILU babe!
> 
> Also, I just can't with the em dashes, [Gray](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrayness/pseuds/thegrayness). So sorry.

David handed Patrick a beer, settling next to him on the newly-purchased couch in Patrick’s newly-rented apartment. He pulled Patrick’s feet into his lap and started rubbing the tension out of the knotted muscles of his calves, appreciating the soft fabric of the micro modal lounge pants David had bought him for Christmas. 

While he didn’t live here full-time, David was rapidly adjusting to the week-old luxury of getting to casually touch his boyfriend behind the privacy of a lockable door. 

“So while you were out, this customer wanted to know whether there’s glycerin in one of our bar soaps. Another wanted a recommendation from the selection of eight different toners we carry. Were you aware we carry _eight_ distinct toners? And yes, before you ask, I checked the product binder. But the bar soap the first customer was asking about is the one we just got in stock last week, so we don’t have the ingredient list laminated yet.”

David opened his mouth to detail the contents of Margaret Remy’s oatmeal and almond soap from memory. But Patrick wasn’t done. 

“And the toner question. I know you’ve already explained the difference between laminaria and spirulina to me. One of them is kelp-based? Or is it seaweed? I know the difference is important, but right now, I’m kind of feeling like I’m back in sophomore year organic chemistry, and I just figured out I wasn’t destined to be a doctor.”

“You wanted to be a physician?” David asked, hands pausing on their journey down to Patrick’s ankles. He was a little distracted by the quickly-conjured mental image of Patrick in a doctor’s coat. And scrubs. Blue, of course. Putting the full force of his charisma behind a sincere entreaty for David to eat fewer processed sugars. So hot. 

“Just for a minute. Well - three semesters, actually. Since my dad’s a podiatrist, I thought maybe I wanted that too.”

“You wanted to look at people’s feet for a living?” David grimaced. “Patrick. Some people, and I’m not naming names...okay fine, twist my arm. Some people like _my father_ have really ugly feet. Like awful shit, even _corns._ ”

“No. I thought maybe I’d be an endocrinologist.”

“Imbalanced hormones. Sexy.”

"Alas, it wasn't meant to be," Patrick went on. "I could never remember the difference between primary, secondary, and tertiary alcohols."

"Well, that's easy," David said. 

Patrick raised his eyebrows. "By all means."

"Primary alcohol is the exquisite bottle of 1982 Bordeaux I once had at a party in the very chic ruins of a coastal French château."

"Naturally."

"Secondary alcohol is everything we carry at the store. Except for that cheap shit we keep in the back for Roland. If he didn't buy it by the case at a hefty markup, I wouldn't stoop to catering to his tastes, but -"

"I know, David. We've been over this. Focus instead on how much nice, secondary alcohol Roland's poorly developed palette has financed."

David sighed. "You're right, you're right. Sacrifices have to be made sometimes."

"So what's tertiary alcohol, then? Teach me."

"Hm. Going to have to circle back to the possibilities contained in 'teach me' at a later point," David said, exerting just the right amount of pressure on the tense arch of Patrick's socked foot. "Right. So, tertiary alcohol. Jampagne, obviously. Only to be consumed in cases of dire emergency, or whilst performing karaoke."

"Good to know, good to know," Patrick replied, eyes closed and mouth slack.

“So back to you. You had a stressful day. How would you like to relax?”

“I don’t know - this is good. What we’re doing right now.”

“You like it when I massage you?” David prodded, hoping for direct confirmation. He slipped off Patrick’s socks, then reached to snag the lotion they kept on the end table.

“Yeah...I guess.”

“‘I guess.’ Wow. If you’re ambivalent, I can just stop?" David stilled his hands. "Arthritis runs on my mother’s side. Wouldn’t want to provoke early-onset joint disease by providing unappreciated massages.”

“It’s very appreciated,” Patrick amended. “And it _is_ helping me relax.”

Patrick blushed. Adorable. 

“That’s it - that’s all I needed to hear. Thank you.” David circled his thumb on the inside of Patrick’s heel, making Patrick’s toes curl. “You’re free to moan a little too, if the spirit moves you.”

A quiet minute or two later, David added, “So what else helps you decompress?” David moved to the ball of Patrick’s foot. Patrick hummed, letting his head fall back onto the couch cushion. 

“Huh?” Patrick articulately replied, squinting at him. 

“Like, when I’m stressed, sometimes I want someone else to be in charge for a little while. Or the other way around.”

“Can you...say more about that?” Patrick said, his gaze looking a little more alert now. 

David tried to formulate the words in his mind, wanting Patrick to understand, and knowing full well that he already did, albeit unconsciously. While they’d never formalized anything in words, sometimes Patrick would get this look in his eyes in bed. His voice would take on a more decisive tone and drop half an octave. He’d let David know exactly what he wanted, and exactly how David looked giving it to him. And then he’d shower David in praise. 

“Well, if I feel like I’ve fucked something up, sometimes it helps to take care of someone else. To stop thinking about myself and all the ways I screwed up. Give the other person what they want, because I _know_ what they want, you know?” Well, that was nonsense. No way Patrick was going to be able to parse that, even with the tangible experience with that exact dynamic that David knew for a fact he had under his belt, having been present for it himself.

“I...think I get it?”

David experienced a distant feeling of surprise to hear himself saying all this to Patrick, when it occurred to him what this foreign feeling was - he was actually comfortable. Actually himself for the first time ever. No, the most honest part of his brain amended, _definitely_ for the first time ever. 

“And other times, I want someone to tell me what to do, exactly what to do. So I know for sure that I’m doing it right. Because they’ll tell me. And I'll know I’m being just what they need. So then it doesn’t matter, whatever stupid thing happened earlier, because I’m good. In that moment, I’m good. 

“Huh. So you like following directions, then? I somehow don’t seem to remember that when we were working on that QuickBooks tutorial the other day?”

“It’s a very specific sort of context," David clarified. God forbid Patrick take this as an open invite for more accounting lessons. "When I like to follow directions.”

“I see,” Patrick said, smiling knowingly at him. David saw more QuickBooks in his future, and he didn’t like it. 

“So. Do you think any of that sounds relaxing?” David asked, steering them back on course. 

“Maybe? I’ll have to think about it.”

“Okay. No pressure, of course. And like, there are terms for everything I just told you, but we don’t have to get into that," David said, petting his shins absentmindedly, as if to soothe a spooked horse. But maybe they should get into it, his worried mind suggested. Maybe this backdoor, Intro to Light Dominance and Submission wasn't right. 

David heard his own mouth keep running. "I mean, we can get into it - I have some excellent articles I could share - but just. We don’t have to. Not tonight, or ever. I’m satisfied. I mean, there’s nothing more I need. Well, there are...things...I’d like to... _fuck_. Not _things I’d like to fuck._ I don’t want to fuck any _things_. Except, there was this dildo shaped like a tenta- nevermind." Oh my God. 

"Need another beer?" David asked, attempting to short circuit his own spiral. "The liquor store off the highway carries the fancy cream ale from that brewery in Elm Glen you like, so I stopped in to pick you up some on my way back from the vendor contract meeting this afternoon. But now I see that maybe I should’ve just come back, instead of stopping at the liquor store. Then I could’ve updated the binders, and answered those questions about toners. Speaking of the binders. Laminaria. That’s derived from kelp, and it’s great for fighting oil buildup. In contrast, spirulina is made from algae, and it’s for smoothing.”

Patrick was openly shaking with laughter by the time David could finally will himself to stop talking. 

“Feels like you’re not really hearing me about the spirulina.”

“I always listen when you talk about kelp.”

“ _Algae_ ,” David said, squeezing Patrick’s thighs hard enough to make him jerk in his grasp. 

“Algae. And I was listening.”

“Oh, you were.”

“Mmhmm. You want me to tell you what to do,” Patrick said.

“Well, yes. That was one takeaway point.”

“Among others, I know. But still. You want me to give you directions.”

“As long as the directions aren’t about math, then yeah. I want that,” David said, aiming for being as clear and unambiguous as possible. 

“I could do that for you.”

“I know you could. You’ve got excellent direction-giving vibes.”

“Oh, there’s a vibe? That I have?” Patrick said, mouth twisting in a teasing smile. 

“Yes. Yes, there is. And yes, you do.”

“Okay. Good to know,” Patrick said with a nod and a pleased smile. “So, what about that one thing we did, before. Back at Ray's. Would you ever want to do that again?”

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific. We’ve been impressively versatile, even with the constant threat of Ray busting down the door like the world’s friendliest SWAT team.”

Patrick laughed. “That thing, two weeks ago. When you. When you kept your hands -”

“Ah,” David said, remembering. That had been a memorable night, after all. “When I kept them on the bars of the bed frame, while you had your way with me?”

Patrick nodded. 

“You liked that?”

Another nod. 

“Care to elaborate?” David pushed, smoothing his hands along Patrick's well-muscled thighs.

“You just. You looked good, doing that. And I thought, maybe, you’d like doing that even more if it was me who put you there. Or who told you to put yourself there. Whichever.”

“That’s a very good thought. See, I told you - you’re a natural.”

Patrick’s gaze shifted down and away. 

“That’s nice to hear, I think,” Patrick said to the coffee table. “Except, I really don’t know what I’m doing. Not at all. And I don’t want to do this wrong.”

“Okay, but ‘this,’ as a new, fun sex thing to explore, is very new. So it’s okay if you don’t want to rush into -”

“It’s not _that_ new.”

“What?” David asked, confused.

“I mean. It’s not like I haven’t thought about it. Like sometimes, I ask you to do something, when we’re being, you know. Intimate.”

“Never say ‘intimate’ again,” David cut in, while privately pleased that Patrick had, indeed, noticed the dynamic that sometimes arose between them. 

“Anyway. Sometimes I ask you to lift your hips, or suck a little harder, stuff like that. And you kind of glaze over. You get all relaxed, and you - God, David - it’s so hot when you just do it. What I asked.”

“You like when I do what you say?” David preened, lifting Patrick’s ankle off his lap to press a kiss to his ankle bone. 

"I think maybe I do."

"Wow, learning all kinds of things about ourselves, aren't we."

"Don't gloat,” Patrick said. “Gloating isn't relaxing."

"Sorry, sorry. So. Want to get started then?"

"What, you mean - now?" Patrick said, eyes wide. 

"Well, are you busy?" David said, digging into the knots of tension just above Patrick's knees. 

Patrick groaned. "Slammed. But maybe I could squeeze you in."

David rolled his eyes, smiling. 

"So how does this work?” Patrick asked. “I just - tell you...what I want you to do?"

"Not like, 'make me a sandwich.' I don't get off on service submission," David clarified. One or six exes had tried, and it had resulted in David making a less-than-dignified exit from more than one hotel room, apartment, or awards afterparty.

"Never heard the term, but I can guess."

"Just stick with sexy requests, okay?" 

"Okay. Get on the bed, David. Please."

"You don't have to say please,” David corrected. 

“I’m from Sudbury. We say please in Sudbury.”

“Even when you’re - nevermind.” David would never win that fight. “I’ll get on the bed.”

“Thanks so much.”

“Is this how it’s going to be?”

“No, I can be less polite. If that’s what you want.”

“Oh my God,” David said, before relocating to the bedroom. Patrick followed him in. 

“Okay, _how_ do you want me to get on the bed?” David asked. 

“Um, is there more than one way? You want to do a belly flop, a pirouette, something?” 

“I mean, sitting or lying down, on my stomach or back, clothes on or off...”

“Oh. Um -”

“Tell me to take my shirt off, Patrick."

“Take your shirt off,” Patrick said. “Slowly.”

“Good.” David slipped his hands beneath the hem of his Neil Barrett sweater, enjoying the slide of the flawless material over his torso before pulling it over his head. He set it gently on the chest at the foot of the Patrick’s bed. When he looked up, Patrick’s eyes were on him in a way that made David feel vaguely hot and alert. 

“Next, tell me to take my pants off.”

“Pants - take your pants off, David.”

David smiled at him, hands going to his waistband until he looked down and saw a roadblock.

“Hm. Something else first, maybe?” David prompted. 

“The shoes. Slippers. House shoes. Whatever - off. Socks too, while you’re down there. Then the pants.”

At David’s grin and quick acquiescence, Patrick added, “Please.”

David made quick work of the lower half of his ensemble, leaving himself in just his boxer briefs. 

He swallowed, his throat clicking, when he clocked the way Patrick was watching him, still leaning against the door frame. 

“You going to come any closer?” David asked.

“Hm. I...think I get to choose, right?”

“You definitely get to choose.”

“Then I’ll stay here,” Patrick said, bravely. “For now. Lose the underwear, then lay down.”

David complied, intrigued to see where Patrick would take this next.

Patrick crossed the room, and David grinned in victory, but instead of joining him on the bed, Patrick reached for the bedside table drawer, located the bottle of silicone lube, and tossed it next to David’s thigh. 

“And what will I be doing with this?” David asked, toying with the cap. 

“I think you can guess,” Patrick said, vaguely. And David couldn’t let that slide. 

“Ah, but I want you to tell me.”

“Stroke yourself,” Patrick said. 

David ran a hand slowly from his hip to his neck, dragging a nail over a nipple and groaning. 

“That wasn’t what I meant, and you know it,” Patrick said, feigning irritation. 

“Not my fault you weren’t specific.”

“Are you always this difficult?” Patrick complained. 

“Yes.”

“Put some lube in your right hand, and then stroke your cock for me, David.”

“But _how_ do you want me to -”

“Slow,” Patrick interrupted. “Do it slow. I want to see.”

“Got it,” David said throatily. This wasn’t exactly what he had been expecting from the evening, and yet. This was good too. Patrick was good. David had known it before, of course, but having the evidence here in front of him was something else. “And you’ll be...”

“Doing whatever I want.”

“Oh, that’s - that’s good. You should do that.”

Patrick loomed over him. Fully dressed, and watching as David followed his instructions. Slowly. 

David wasn’t quite sure where to direct his own gaze. Seemed a little narcissistic to watch his own hand on his dick. Kind of like watching your own haircut in the salon mirror. He could look at Patrick, watch Patrick watching him. That was an option. He’d appreciate a little more skin on display. Not that he was complaining. The green henley Patrick was sporting was doing him all the favors. And the lounge pants. His thighs looked fantastic, as usual, and David could make out the outline of his cock.

David tracked the movement of Patrick’s hands as he popped the button the fly of the pants, then pulled his cock through the slit in his boxers. Well, okay then. Now David definitely had somewhere to fix his gaze. 

“Hand me the lube,” Patrick said, holding out his palm. 

David reassembled his remaining brain function and felt around for the bottle with his free hand, passing it to Patrick. He shivered when their hands brushed, like it was 1860 instead of 2019, and he had just spotted a wayward ankle instead of a fully exposed cock. 

“I didn’t say you could stop,” Patrick said, stroking himself.

Oh, God. David nodded, wordlessly, and slid his hand tightly from base to tip, letting the head of his cock slip up through his fist as slowly as he could stand, trying to be good. 

Patrick groaned, which made the delay to his own personal gratification worth it. 

“Anything else you, _mmm_ , want to see?” David asked. 

“What else is on the table?”

“I showered before you got home.”

“In that case,” Patrick said, a considering eyebrow raised, “Spread your legs.”

“Happily.”

Patrick moved to stand at the end of the bed. 

“Put your feet on the bed, so I can - fuck, you look gorgeous,” Patrick said, as David got in position. “Okay, hand off your cock. Put your hands on the bars.”

“But my hand’s kind of...” David wiggled his wet fingers in Patrick’s direction. 

“Oh, right. Let me get you something -” Patrick scanned the room, landing on his own discarded t-shirt which he tossed to David. David would never take such liberties with his own clothes, but Hanes was more forgiving than Tom Ford. He wiped off his hand, and then dropped the shirt gingerly beside the bed. 

“I’m going to finger you open now, if that’s okay,” Patrick said, but he made no move to join David on the bed.

“That’s okay. That’s more than okay.”

“Good. Thank you for telling me - that, that it’s okay,” Patrick stammered. 

“Hon, you alright?” David asked, checking in. 

“Hm, what?” Patrick said, looking down at him, pupils blown but voice still a little wavering, still slowly fucking his fist. 

“Are you doing alright?” David repeated. 

“Yeah,” Patrick said, nodding for longer than a person doing alright should nod.

“You...sure?”

“Yeah, this is...you’re so hot, David.”

“Thank you. And?”

"I like it, I do. It's just, it's a lot, I think. Maybe. I...could we..."

At the long pause, David threw Patrick a line, so proud of how brave he was being here, telling David the truth. "Whatever it is, the answer is probably yes. Tell me."

"...Switch? For a bit? You give the orders?"

"Oh, I see. You need some direction, Patrick?"

Patrick nodded. 

"I can do that." David swung his legs down over the side of the bed and sat up. "Come here, gorgeous," he said, beckoning Patrick forward until Patrick was standing between his knees. 

"Now, I'm going to be very, very good to you. Is that alright?" David asked. 

More nodding.

"Can I get that aloud?"

Patrick cleared his throat. "Yes. That's alright. That's _awesome._ "

David grinned. 

"You’re still going to fuck me. I’m going to have you fuck me, okay?"

 _Nod_. 

"I'm going to talk you through it,” David said. “I'll tell you everything you need to do, and you'll do it so, so well. You know how I know?"

Patrick shook his head. 

"Because everything important, you do with spectacular competence.”

“And fucking you is very important,” Patrick said, teasing but blushing all the same, one side of his mouth pulled up in a smile.

“Obviously. Okay. Clothes off, first. Well, dry your hand off, _then_ clothes off. Then get up here, next to me.”

“Okay.” Patrick replied, stooping down to reuse the already-defiled t-shirt/temporary lube-rag. He stripped out of his shirt, pants, underwear, and socks without ceremony, definitely faster than David would have preferred. But David hadn’t been _specific,_ and that was on him. 

David rearranged himself, lying back on the pillows while Patrick settled between his knees. 

“So you’d asked me to put my hands on the bars, before. You’re going to put them there for me, okay?”

Patrick nodded, lacing his fingers with David’s and curling David’s palms around the steel bed frame. He sat back on his heels, resting his hands on David's spread thighs.

“Now I’m going to stay just like this, and you’re going to tell me what you like about it. I love to hear what you like.”

Patrick’s mouth dropped open for a moment, and he looked David over from head to toe. 

“Oh, I like _everything_ about how you look when you’re like this,” Patrick said. “It’s gonna sound weird, but the skin on the underside of your arms - it’s so pale, and shit - _vulnerable_? Like I know nobody else gets to see it. And your back, the way it curves when you’re in this position, really shows off your chest.”

David arched his spine, emphasizing the effect. 

“Yeah, just like that. And you just look really...really available. Like I could do what I wanted to you, and you’d love it. Everything all laid out just for me. Beautiful.”

David preened, not even pretending to hide how much he loved this, loved hearing every good thing Patrick thought of him. It was easier to absorb the praise like this, in the dim, curtain-filtered glow from the streetlights outside. Anything could be true, when David felt like this. Even something as absurd as Patrick thinking he was beautiful. Maybe even especially that.

“Anything else?” David prompted shamelessly.

“Your neck, when you -”

David pushed the back of his head against the mattress, lifting his chin. 

“Yeah, that’s it. It’s really...” Patrick traced one finger over the length of it, over his Adam's apple down to the notch of his collarbone. “Pretty.”

“Thank you,” David said, his voice deep and obviously turned on, as if his cock straining for the ceiling wasn't already enough of a giveaway. 

“What next,” Patrick asked, sitting back on his heels.

“Kiss me,” David said thoughtlessly. 

Patrick tipped his head to the side, smirking. “Where? How?”

David laughed. “You’re learning fast. Um, start with my neck, and work your way down. Slow. Pick your favorite spots.”

“You got it,” Patrick replied, bracing his hands on either side of David’s chest and latching his mouth onto David’s pulsepoint.

“Harder,” David groaned. 

Patrick obliged. 

“Another.”

Patrick sucked another mark into the top of his shoulder. 

“Lower.”

Another mark, into the thin skin above his right nipple.

“Lower.”

Patrick smiled against his skin, licking along his lowest rib, alternately kissing lightly and biting against the sensitive skin of his stomach and hips. David's fingers flexed on the bars. 

"Okay, s-stop," David forced himself to say as Patrick's mouth inched ever closer to his cock.

"Hm?" Patrick nuzzled at his hipbone. 

“Get the lube.”

Patrick nodded, his eyes tracing over the still-stinging marks David could feel across his torso. He shook himself out of the trance he’d apparently worked himself into, searching in the sheets until he found the bottle. 

“Alright, one finger on my - don’t touch my cock yet,” David said, interrupting himself when he noticed that Patrick’s hand was headed in that direction. “I didn’t say to.”

“Sorry,” Patrick said, not looking sorry at all. He traced the vein on the underside of David’s cock, making him shiver.

David shook himself before he could slip into a Patrick-induced stupor. “Alright, for that infraction - on your knees. Beside the bed.”

“What?” Patrick said.

“On the floor, on your knees.”

When Patrick didn’t move to comply right away, David asked, “Everything alright? Is this okay?”

Patrick swallowed before answering. He scooted to the edge of the bed, sliding off and onto the plush rug below. Settling on his knees, he looked up at David through his ridiculously pretty eyelashes. David noticed the change in Patrick’s posture, his demeanor, as soon as his knees hit the ground.

“It’s okay. It’s great, actually. I, um. I’ve just never...and it’s great. It’s really, really great. Being down here.”

“Good. I’m going to take my hands down now. My arms are cramping a little, and I want you to watch this next part. You’ll have a good view from where you’re at. I promise.”

“Please.”

“Hands on your thighs. Keep them there,” David instructed. 

David felt around for the lube, then swiveled to position his feet on the edge of the mattress, knees in the air, Patrick at eye level with...with _everything._

He’d normally feel a little vulnerable, on display like this, but Patrick had been more than clear that he liked to look at him. It may have taken David a solid eighteen months to get to this point, but he was starting to believe that it really might be true.

David wove a hand around his own thigh and circled a wet fingertip over his hole. He heard Patrick take a harsh breath. 

“Everything okay down there?” David asked, though he was pretty sure he knew the answer. 

“Fuck, yes. David, keep going, come on -”

“Tell me to,” David said, aiming for firm and landing on breathy and desperate. 

“Put your finger inside. I want to see. Feels like, feels like it’s happening to me, or like I’m doing it to you. God. Come on.”

“Yeah, you are doing it to me, here you go,” David said, slipping the tip of his index finger past his rim, in and out a few times. “How’s that look?”

“Perfect, fucking perfect. Can you -”

“What, Patrick?”

“Curl it, get the good spot. In that position, can you reach it, for me?”

“I can definitely do that for you,” David said, tipping his hips so that he could reach his prostate with his finger. He groaned when he grazed it. "Hardly an imposition."

It’d be better with two, so David said, “Tell me to add another.”

“Add another. Jesus, David.”

David dripped a bit more lube onto his hand, then nudged his middle finger in, alongside his index. He crooked them both, until... _there_. He groaned, his back arching without his conscious permission. He wasn’t even aiming for looking sexy now, he was just chasing what felt good, Patrick’s hot gaze acting as lighter fuel to an already-raging fire.

“Can I, can I _please_...” Patrick said, and even though David wasn’t looking at him, he could read the desperation in his voice as clear as day. 

David looked between his knees at Patrick, there on the floor. Patrick, whose gaze was glued to David’s hand, moving his fingers in and out now, fucking himself. 

“Can you what?” David prodded. 

“Fuck you, touch myself, fucking _something_.”

David stilled his fingers. “Oh, so this isn’t ‘something’?” He grinned at the ceiling. 

“No, no, God, no,” Patrick corrected, all traces of his usually dependable snark missing in action. “This is definitely something, I just thought maybe...”

“You think you’ve earned it? To fuck me?”

“I don’t know, David. Have I?” 

“Tell me to add a third.”

“Add a third,” Patrick directed.

David did, after the addition of yet more lube. 

“God, that’s good. Get up here. Move me, I know you can - get me how you want me.”

“I can do that.”

Patrick scrambled gracelessly up onto the bed. He gripped David’s hips, hauling him into the center of the bed and then shifting him further up until David’s head was resting on the pillow. 

David slid his fingers out, wiping them on the sheets. No time to grab anything else. 

“Alright, do it - do it.” David wrapped his legs around Patrick’s waist, and Patrick guided his cock home, home where it belonged, inside of him. 

Patrick was fucking shaking by the time he bottomed out, leaning forward until his forehead rested on David’s own. 

“Oh my God, oh my fucking God,” Patrick chanted. 

“Good, it’s so good, isn’t it. What we do together. You just fucking _fit_ , don’t you,” David said, out of his mind as Patrick pulled his hips back only to snap them forward again, working a gasp out of David, whose hands were clenched against Patrick’s back. He knew he was leaving little half-moon nail marks all over Patrick’s skin. He couldn’t wait to admire his work. That was for later though.

“Your hand - come on, on my cock, Patrick, please, _God._ ”

Patrick immediately wrapped his hand around David’s dick, slicking the wetness at the head down to the base, matching the rhythm of his hips smacking into David’s ass. He sat back on the heels, letting go of David’s dick only to pull David back into him, both hands gripping his ass until David was in his lap.

David gripped the bars of the headboard again, to get some additional leverage. He fucked himself onto Patrick’s dick, grateful for the return of Patrick’s slick hand, stroking him again and quickly taking him apart. 

“God, I could watch you forever, forever - you don’t even know,” Patrick said. 

“I’m, _fuck_ , starting to get that message,” David said. 

“Shit, David, I can’t hold on -”

“‘S’okay, come on - go for it, come on, I’m right behind you.”

“You...first,” Patrick gasped, slowing his hips and twisting his fist perfectly around the head of David’s cock until David was shouting and coming and gasping and going out of his fucking mind. 

“So,” _thrust_ , “fucking,” _thrust_ , “gorgeous,” Patrick said, fucking into his lax and sated body.

David hummed at the praise, eyes closing despite himself, zoning out as Patrick’s rhythm grew uneven and then he was coming, coming into him, breathing hot against David’s neck, his mouth open and hot on his skin. He kissed over David’s cheek, the bridge of his nose, over his eyebrow until his wandering mouth found David’s. David poured as much energy as he had remaining into the kiss, boneless and dead to the world as he was. 

Patrick carefully slid his cock out, kissing the inside of David’s knee as he gently placed his legs back on the bed and flopped down beside him. 

“You gonna make it?” David asked, rolling to his side and running a hand lightly down Patrick’s spine. Goosebumps rose in the wake of his touch. 

“Unclear,” Patrick murmured, muffled by the sheets. 

“If you can stay conscious for five more minutes, there’s something I want you to see,” David said. 

Patrick rolled to face him, with a tired groan. “What.”

“Have you ever watched, I mean really watched, your own come slide out of someone?”

The open-mouthed shock on Patrick's face told David the answer. “Uh, no? I haven’t. I take it I've been missing out.”

“Not for long. Sit up, ‘k?”

“I’ll try,” Patrick said, moving like he was being pulled along by a very lazy puppeteer. 

David slid into position on his hands and knees. 

“Get behind me. Then, give me three smacks, each side, and watch.”

“Holy fuck, David,” Patrick said, shifting into place between David’s spread knees, sounding dazed. 

“Too much?” David asked, peering over his shoulder to take a measure of Patrick’s expression. 

“No, no, just - how did you get this hot, how...God. It shouldn’t be _possible_ , how you make me feel. Before you, I didn't think it _was._ ”

“Mmhmm, okay, great - now, just - do what I said.”

“Fuck, alright,” Patrick said, and his hand landed on David’s right ass cheek, the sting sharp and immediate, bringing David back to some semblance of clarity after the extremely thorough fucking he’d just gotten. His muscles clenched at the second strike, closer to his hole this time, and he could feel the first bit of come eek out of him and down his thigh. 

“Oh my God, David - oh my God,” Patrick said, hitting him again. 

“Right? I told you,” David said, proudly. 

“Jesus,” Patrick whispered, breathing harsh as he smacked the left side with enough force to send David rocking forward on his knees a little. _Perfect_. 

“That’s it, that’s it - two more.”

Patrick slapped him twice more, and David now had matching stripes of come trailing down both legs. Patrick ran a finger between his cheeks, starting at his hole and following the wet line of come down to where it ended behind David’s knees.

“God, I think you’re going to have to carry me to the shower,” David said, collapsing forward onto his arms.

“Nope. Cannot,” Patrick said. “Not possible. Unless you’re carrying me too.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” David slurred, rolling to his side again. 

“We can’t go to bed like this either though,” Patrick said, annoyingly reasonable. 

David ignored him, too content even in the biohazard the bed had become. Patrick’s fingers traced over the welts David could feel rising hot and stinging on his ass. 

“Those feel pretty,” David said, without thinking.

“...They are,” Patrick confirmed, tugging David’s hip until he was on his back. “So are these,” Patrick added, running a hand over David’s torso and all of the marks there. 

“Mmm.”

“We can’t stay here, this is just...we made a real mess,” Patrick said. Again with the reasonableness. Fuck. 

“Fiiiiiine. We’ll make it to the shower together, ‘k? Wouldn’t want to die after what we just did.”

“Would be worth it though,” Patrick said, standing up on shaky legs and offering David a hand up. 

“Definitely worth it,” David replied, forcing himself upright. 

Patrick slung an arm around David's waist, and they jointly hobbled toward the bathroom.

Under the hot shower spray, Patrick smiled as he let David gently rub soapy hands over his arms, chest, and down his legs. 

"So," David said, rotating Patrick to wash his back and (perfect) ass. "What did you think?"

Patrick tipped his head back onto David's shoulder. "God, you were right. I feel so much better. Thank you."

"Well, I’m very wise. And, you're welcome," David said, kissing his temple. "Any time."


End file.
